If I thought I'd seen strange the night before with a snake in my bed, my bedroom was now crowded with two blue men who were more than eight feet tall. Both had blond hair, bright blue eyes and sky-blue skin. Did they think they could hide what they were from me?
"Larentii," I breathed as the information came. That wasn't all I knew about them, but I didn't want to tip my hand. Their race was eternally curious and I had no desire to become the object of their scrutiny.
"Get those clothes off," Gavin commanded. Well, the command held compulsion. I blinked at him in confusion. One of the comesuli held an expensive, raw silk tunic and slacks over an arm, and he now extended the clothing to me, albeit unwillingly. He knew what was happening and he didn't like it.
"Hurry, you still have to get your hair done before Connegar alters your appearance."
"What?" The word was out before I could stop myself. Gavin was already seething as it was, and a misplaced word displayed a lack of proper obedience.
"It will not be painful," Connegar the Larentii assured me.
"But," I wanted to shake my head and refuse, but Gavin had given compulsion. Did I want him to know it didn't work? Of course not. Instead, I snatched the clothing away from a fuming comesula and rushed into my bathroom to change.
What came next happened in a whirlwind, and I am still at a loss to explain any of it. I was dressed as the Queen; my hair was styled as hers might be and then a nine-foot Larentii knelt beside me and took my face in his hands. When he drew back, my face, hair, everything—looked exactly like that of the Queen of Le-Ath Veronis. My voice too, had changed slightly, and I could only imagine I now sounded like the Queen as well.
A hurried trip to the Vampire Council chambers came next, and I blinked in terror as I was shoved onto a seat before more than six hundred vampires—after they'd been commanded to
Rise for the Queen
. Eventually I focused on shoes, hands and clothing, as the images that came presented an overload of long lives, deeds and misdeeds, loves and losses.
Many times during that prolonged, tedious day, I wanted to scream the word why as I was told where to sit or stand, to whom I should speak and how to greet them, and then told to sit quietly while topic after topic was discussed at length by the Vampire Council. Several people followed us as I was led away after the meeting—not to my bedroom but to the Queen's suite.
"That went well." One of the handsomest men I'd ever seen in my life heaved a relieved sigh as the door to the Queen's suite was closed behind us. I'd been forced to wear the Queen's gold coronet all day and now wanted more than anything to remove it from my head. That wouldn't do; Gavin was frowning deeply at me.
"Flavio, if we hadn't ever allowed the media inside the Council Chambers," another vampire offered.
"Father, it is almost a requirement by the Alliance." I blinked at the one called Flavio—he'd just addressed the older vampire as his sire. It didn't matter; I knew it as I stared at them. They were old—very old—but Flavio's sire was nearly twice as old. I couldn't begin to describe what I saw in Wlodek's face, however. That would have to wait until I had time to puzzle it out.
Gavin, I knew, was younger than Flavio, but not by much. I was surrounded by ancient vampires and I wanted to demand answers as to why I'd been put on display and paraded about as the Queen of Le-Ath Veronis. They really didn't know the underlying reason for it either—they'd only been instructed to do it.
"I hate that Lissa is gone, now of all times," Gavin grumbled. "We have a full session of meetings scheduled and she should be here instead of this." He swept a hand in my direction.
A terrible desire to slap him across the room engulfed me. Quelling that thought, I worked to bring my face into a smooth countenance. With an effort, I forced the frown away from my mouth and eyes. Here I was, stuck with the worst sire imaginable. Would I ever call him father, as Flavio had done with Wlodek, his sire? Not even on the coldest day in the deepest portion of hell.
"She was brought here for this purpose, Gavin," Flavio pointed out. "Kyler says this."
"But the turning was not on my agenda." Gavin was angry about that, I could tell.
I wanted to shout at him, then. I wanted to remind him that I'd said no.
Twice
. I hadn't wanted to be vampire just as much as he hadn't wanted to turn me.
"You could have called Casimir," Wlodek said softly. He'd been studying my face and likely caught a brief glimpse of my anger.
"You know Casimir would have coddled her. We have to have a firm hand, here, if she is to behave as we desire. Casimir does not need this information—that we are placing someone in the Queen's chair during her absence." Gavin snorted.
My fists clenched. Coddled? I'd never been coddled. I wanted to fling insults and profanity in his direction. Tell him exactly what I thought of him. I didn't. And just as I'd done so many times before, I held it inside and hoped it would go away.
* * *
If I'd thought I'd met with frigid indifference from my vampire sire, it was only because I hadn't visited the kitchen, yet. I needed a bottle of blood substitute before going to bed and the moment I entered the massive palace kitchen, I knew.
Somehow, the palace staff had been informed that I was masquerading as the Queen. They'd been given compulsion not to reveal that fact to anyone outside the palace, but they knew; I read it in every face I encountered. Cheedas, the vampire who oversaw the kitchen staff and worked as head cook, muttered angrily the whole time I was in his domain, and angry conversation broke the moment I left, carrying my bottle with me.
Did I want to cry? The simple answer is yes. I wanted to weep and shout and curse. Not only was weeping dangerous, it had never gotten me anywhere during my life and I didn't expect it to help me now.
Once inside the Queen's suite (I'd been instructed to sleep there whenever I looked like Queen Lissa) I wearily sat on her dressing bench and examined my new face in the mirror.
Larentii are a powerful race. Atoms form at their command, and anything can be forced into any image, should they desire it. Full lips, blue eyes and strawberry-blonde hair. That's what I had, now. I wanted my face back. I wanted my curly dark hair back. I wanted the past few weeks of my life to be undone. I wanted to walk away from my former life, too, but there were some who'd likely suffered at my absence. It didn't matter; there was nothing I could do to change any of it, now.
Unable to sleep at first, I turned on the massive vid-screen inside the Queen's bedchamber and watched the late news produced on Le-Ath Veronis. "Who stole from you, and how much?" A journalist had a microrecorder shoved in the face of a local casino owner.
He obviously thought himself handsome—with thick, dark hair and hazel eyes. He was using every bit of airtime he could muster to further his agenda, too. Alliance vids were of such good quality that I could read anyone from a digital image. The casino owner was lying.
Snatching my comp-vid off the bedside table, I hastily searched for the casino owner's profile. It wasn't difficult to find. Surprisingly enough, the friendly snake crawled into the Queen's bedroom and lifted himself onto the bed.
"Found me, huh?" I ran a finger over smooth scales. "See this?" I showed him the photograph of Weren Kele on my comp-vid. Kele had owned the Moonstone Casino for three years. He was complaining to a journalist that someone—an employee, perhaps—had embezzled nearly a million Alliance credits.
"This is Weren Kele," I informed the snake. "He says someone stole a lot of money from him. He's lying. He has a pile of non-identifiable credit chips in a safe inside a jewelry business he owns with a partner. That partner's name is Shale Parc. See, you know something you didn't know before." I kept stroking the snake's head. He rose, looked me in the eye, blinked twice and then slid off the bed.
"Okay, maybe you didn't want to know that," I muttered as I watched him crawl from the Queen's bedroom.
* * *
Nobody spoke to me unless it was inside the Council Chamber. There, I was addressed as the Queen and Gavin, employing mindspeech, told me who they were and what to say. I'd already known who they were, but I wasn't going to share that information with a cold and indifferent sire. I didn't attempt to return Gavin's mindspeech, either. Likely, I didn't have it; few vampires did. My sire had it.
Sire
. What a useless word to me. I'd never had parents. My mother had been a drug addict who'd gotten arrested shortly after she became pregnant. After her conviction and incarceration for manufacturing meth with two cousins, she gave birth to me while in prison. My father's name was left blank on the birth certificate—she didn't know who the father might be. I often wondered if it were my father or my mother's drug habit that left me with the curse I bore.
"How is your new turn?" I took the hand offered to me as the latest meeting was breaking up. No, Gavin hadn't funneled that information to me, but it was in the face of the vampire standing before me. I figured the Queen would know information such as that.
"She is doing very well." He almost beamed at me; he was so pleased to be asked. "She was my donor before, and well, I have hopes that after the probationary period is over, we might marry."
"Then I wish you the very best," I smiled at him.
"Thank you, Raona." He gave the comesuli word for your majesty.
"You're very welcome," I patted his hand.
* * *
"How did you know about Linder's new turn?" If anyone can make a conversational question surly, Gavin certainly can.
"The palace comesuli gossip all the time," I hedged. They did. If two or more of them congregated, gossip was inevitably exchanged.
"Very well. It was permissible to make note of it this time," Gavin grumbled. We were making our way toward the Queen's suite again after the meeting. I itched to ask for blood substitute to be stocked inside the suite. That way I wouldn't have to go to the kitchen and deal with stony-faced silence or angry mutterings from the comesuli. Realizing that Gavin Montegue had no care for me or my feelings in the matter, I didn't ask.
The following day was off-day, but I rose early and made my way to the small office I'd been given anyway. Requests from the comesuli were piling up and Grant and Heathe had no time to handle any of it. I hadn't seen the Larentii, either, since they'd changed my appearance. The least they could have done was allow me to wear my own face on off-days.
"What are you doing here?" The Queen's Falchani twins stood in the doorway, and Drew spoke to me. I'd only caught glimpses of them at times—from a distance. They were in charge of the Queen's army and saw to the training of elite troops. Comesuli gossip said they were very proficient with the blades they often carried.
"Working." I spared them a glance before going back to my comp-vid. What did I see in their faces? Their loving parents. The Queen they adored. Sons they also loved, who were schooled by a tutor elsewhere. They were nearly grown, those sons.
"How are Travis and Trent?" I asked after their children.
"Dad's sending them to Falchan this summer," Drew grinned; I looked up just to see. "They'll put all that training to work and realize how much they've slacked off in their lessons. Bel wants to go with them, and it looks as if he'll get permission from his father."
"Interesting," I said. "Where is Falchan? Wait, forget I asked." I lowered my eyes. Just for a moment, I'd forgotten my place.
"You should work in the Queen's office instead of this one," Drake said. "Since we're trying so hard to convince everybody she's here."
"I have a hard enough time sleeping in her bed," I muttered.
"Come on, it's not that different. It's just bigger," Drew said. "The bed and the office." He grinned. That grin might have made any other woman grin right back.
With a sigh, I gathered my comp-vid and followed them to the Queen's study. The room was much larger than my small cubicle and priceless paintings and artwork decorated the walls. A vid-screen popped up when Drew hit a button on the desk.
"In case you want some distraction," he grinned again before he and Drake left me alone.
The news-vids were on and the same journalist I'd seen before spoke to a camera crew outside the Casino City jail, where a cuffed Weren Kele was being led, followed by his partner, Shale Parc, who was also in cuffs. "Both were arrested for fraud," the journalist announced as I studied their images. At least somebody wasn't buying Weren Kele's bluster, and it was likely the law-enforcement team from Casino City. "Good for you," I gave them my compliments and turned back to my work.
* * *
Kooper stared at his hands as he sat in Trevor's office. He and the Sheriff of Casino City had become very good friends over the past two years. They often met to exchange information or discuss open cases. Trevor was as trustworthy as they came, and Kooper knew the old vampire would never divulge sensitive information.
"How did you get the information on Weren Kele?" Trevor asked. A bottle of blood substitute sat at his elbow, half-finished. Kooper had a cup of coffee sitting on a corner of Trevor's desk—the drink had gone cold as they talked.
"An unusual source that I can't reveal at the moment. I'm still not sure how they arrived at the information. It was pure gold, though. My source was right, all the way." Kooper rubbed his chin as he gazed at Trevor.